Onward and Upward

Knocked me off my feet

Literally... The wind knocked me off my feet yesterday. After maybe more than 10 years, I scraped my knees.

I picked up Joaquin from the CDC and as when I was going down the sidewalk area, my 4-in heel caught the hem of my wide-leg pants. Thanks to the wind which very successfully was blowing my pants. I guess balancing your weight plus some 25 lbs of your loving child on a very small area such as the sole of your stilettos and that tiny heel wasn't the most ideal scenario on a 45-50mph wind day. It felt it happened really slow. As I knew I was falling, I cupped Joaquin's head with my right hand shielding him from the terrors of the concrete road. And then my delicate knees dropped to the ground and it scraped the thin skin of knees. And take note, both knees. I'm so gald I was wearing my coat or else my elbows would have taken a beating from the road too. I saw my right shoe off my feet standing glorious by itself as I checked if Joaquin hit his head. A gentleman came over and said, "Those winds are really strong, are you ok?" I asked, "I think so." I reached out my hand and he helped me get back on my feet. "Where's your car" he asked. "It's just there." "Ok." "Thank you so much." Then I limped my way to the car, with one shoe on and the other one in my hand.

Joaquin was fine, my shoes were fine. My pants were not, I was not. The friction burned a hole on my lovely pants. I guess I'm letting this pair go.

I've forgotten how it was to fall and get bruises and scrapes on my knees. Surprisingly, I wasn't as devastated as I thought I would be. It was quite nostalgic actually.

It was at school, the bell rang so I had to run to get the line for my class. I tripped over my fellow classmates' bags on the ground. I fell and literally slid on the rough concrete ground. I scraped my elbows and kness - big time. I didn't initially looked at how bad it was. One of my classmates said I should go to the clinic because it's pretty bad. So I did. The nurse said it was bad as I still refused to look at it with my 9-year old pride. I said, "I'm fine, it's far enough from the intestines." She covered it with bandages and I carried on with my day. So I got home, limping. Pealed off the bandages and there it was... really. bad. scrapes. I'm glad the scars faded away gloriously. I felt brave watching them heal.

I hope these new scrapes don't hang around too long. I'm almost 29 years old. I won the battle I had when I was 9.

posted by abi @ 10:40 AM